


Stitch, thread and touch

by korydwen (melusinezar)



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melusinezar/pseuds/korydwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night is calm and they prepare to leave. But Furiosa brings out unknowingly a strange reaction from a touch-depraved Max.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitch, thread and touch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt on the kink meme : "I just want a little moment between Furiosa and touch-starved Max. In some quiet period, at the Vuvalini camp or when Nux is driving etc, she tends some small wound he can't get at very well. Tell me his feelings about being touched by a safe hand. Bonus points if he never flinches once during her cleaning/stitching the wound, but he's a little astonished when her thoughtfully soothing it with a damp cloth makes him a little teary-eyed. Up to you if she notices :3"

She was preparing the bikes with the other women when Furiosa checked around to see what the Fool was up to. She noticed him next to the War Rig, a wet rag in his hand, trying to press it somewhere under his shirt. By the look of frustration on his face, he wasn't very satisfied with himself. 

She tied the bag she had finished to fill and walked toward him. 

"Hey." she called and he turned to look at her. "What's wrong ?"

He shrugged. He took out the rag from under his shirt and Furiosa saw the blood on it. She walked closer to him.

"You're hurt."

He unfolded the rag, folded it again but over the blood, put it again under his shirt.

"Let me see." she said and he paused. He hold her stare a few seconds. Slowly, never stopping looking at her, he raised his shirt to reveal the slash on his side. It wasn't bad but it was going up toward his scapula and he couldn't clean it completely. And no way he could sew it by himself.

"Come" she said, walking toward the bikes and he followed only after a brief hesitation.

"Sit" and he sat on the front seat of the bike. She opened one of the bag and took out a needle and a thread. She sat right behind him and he put the rag in her extended hand over his shoulder in silence. She made him take off half of his shirt so she would have a better access to the wound. He put his hand on his knee, elbow away from his body.

He was used to pain, and this one wasn't a particularly awful one, so he didn't even flinch when a spark rushed through his back and shoulder when she dragged the rag over his wound. Once the slash was cleaned, she put the cloth on his healthy shoulder. 

She steadied herself by putting her mechanic hand on his elbow and she started to sew him up with her flesh one.

It was strange to feel this cold hand on his arm and the graze of a fleshed and warm one on his back, preceded by the sting of the needle. Around them, there was the silence of the desert at night, only troubled by the whispers of the escaped women and of Furiosa's old clan.

Her moves were precise and neither too slow nor too fast. Like a strange lulling rythm of sting, sting, bring the flesh together with the pull of the thread, sting, sting, pull the thread, sting, sting...

There was something comforting in it. He looked down at his hands, not used to see them not doing anything while the common pain of stitches was tingling his skin. 

For a few minutes, he felt safe. The stinging pain was keeping the voices away from the soothing rythm of Furiosa's hand. 

She knotted the thread, and he felt her breath and her cheek against the back of his shoulder when she cut the thread with her teeth. She inspected the stitches with her flesh hand, checking if they would hold on a bit of pressure. When assured they would, her hand rubbed his spine. Just a quick and brief up and down and then a little pat to signal him he could put his shirt completely back on.

He didn't noticed it immediately, but the view around him had blurred a bit. And it's when he had to sniff to unclog his nose he realized it was because of the tears in his eyes.

"You're good ?" she asked from behind him and he nodded, standing up and walking a step away from the bike. He looked at her over his shoulder and once again their stares locked. He nodded again and she went back into furnishing her bags.

The night in the desert was always cold, but for a moment longer, Max felt a patch of warmth on his back.


End file.
